


(Can't Bear to) Face the Truth

by downlookingup



Series: Walk on Shells [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Brienne and Jaime's Big Mistake, from Brienne’s POV. One week of regrets and awkward conversations.</p><p>The song for this one is "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBz8iXdddqY">The trick is to keep breathing</a>", also by Garbage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday, 11:35 a.m.

Margaery answered Brienne’s distress call with a triple order of their favorite chocolate-stuffed golden bread from Hot Pie! Bakery on Cobblers Square, a dose of emergency contraception, and a broad grin. She looked so pleased, Brienne found she didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble and she wished Margaery would just leave before she got to asking questions and found out the sad truth. _That he took me and then didn’t want me._

“I had to look up what in the seven hells levonorgestrel was. You couldn’t just say ‘the morning-after pill’?”

Brienne pushed her food around her plate but said nothing. She would have bought the pill herself if she hadn’t been so embarrassed. Having Margaery bring her the pill was no less mortifying, but she’d rather face her friend than be subjected to the judgmental gaze of a pharmacist who would no doubt wonder who in their right mind would have unprotected sex with a freak like her. For a brief, disorienting moment she was hit by the image of a little girl with pale blonde hair and green eyes, and her insides twisted up again and she dropped her fork.

“I appreciate the food and the...” She cleared her throat. “The pill, but I have some errands to run. We could have brunch tomorrow if you want.”

“Oh, no!” Margaery glared at her. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened. I want detailed descriptions. And diagrams, if possible.”

Brienne’s face heated up and she stared down at the food, at the gooey chocolatey inside and the crispy golden outside and the light dusting of powdered sugar. Gods, she was hungry, but she wasn’t entirely sure she could keep anything down at the moment. _How am I going to face him on Monday?_

“Well?” Margaery urged. From the corner of her eye, Brienne saw she was practically shaking with excitement in her seat. Margaery had tried to get Brienne back in the dating pool for years, ever since the Hyle Hunt disaster. Save for a few disastrous dates, it had been to no avail. The men who interested Brienne were not interested in her, and the men who were interested in her simply did not exist.

“Well, we did it. We...”

“You had sex!” Margaery hooted and clapped with childish glee. “I’m so happy for you! I knew there was something going on with you two. Addam owes me twenty bucks.”

Brienne scowled at her. Another bet at her expense. She would be angry if she thought Margaery meant something by it. “There’s nothing,” she snapped. “It was just a pity fuck.” She had been thinking the words all morning, over and over again since he’d left, but saying them out loud make them real, made them hurt. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “He said he was going to call, but I didn’t believe him.”

Margaery shook her head vehemently, her brown curls dancing over her shoulders. She looked so crestfallen, Brienne almost felt bad for her. “No, he wouldn’t do that to you. Would he?”

“He _did_.”

“Is he seeing someone else?”

The question was so sudden, it almost surprised the answer out of her. A more vindictive person might have said it anyway, but the secret was not hers to give away. No matter how much she was hurting, she couldn’t do that to Jaime. She couldn’t even do it to Cersei, and the gods knew she didn’t deserve any such consideration.

“I don’t know, Marg. We don’t talk about his sex life.”

Margaery scoffed. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“You can believe what you like,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. As far as she was concerned, the conversation was over, but Margaery was completely incapable of taking a hint once she had gotten her teeth into something.

“Fine, so you got a one night stand with the sexiest man in our acquaintance. Was it good?”

“Yes,” she growled.

“Yes?” Margaery cocked an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Brienne picked up her fork and stabbed the toasted bread until it was just a glazed mush. “That’s it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

As if a switch had been flipped, Margaery’s face softened and she let out a low, sad moan. She reached over, took Brienne’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze, and Brienne tried to pull it away but Margaery’s grip was iron. “I had no idea, Brienne. I’m so sorry.”

Brienne wanted to ask what it was that Margaery thought she knew, but she already knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Golden bread" is the English translation of "pain doré", which is the Québécois name for French toast, a term I could not use for obvious reasons.


	2. Sunday, 5:12 a.m.

_I am standing in the largest room I have ever seen. It is night time and it is dark and either end of the chamber fades away into the darkness like a runny watercolor. The floor is golden parquet, the walls are gilded and marble, and the ceiling is covered with frescoes of dragons and kings. I know it is the Red Keep, but it is also Casterly Rock, even though I have never been there._

_Someone is in the shadows and I know I should turn and run away, but I want to know who it is. I want to know if it is him. The closer I get, the better I can see. An arm here, a leg there, a bare stomach covered in a light dusting of gold hair, a head with cascading golden waves. Two pairs of green eyes follow me as I move and they are laughing and they are touching and they are moaning. When she drops to her knees before him, he smiles at me. When he opens his mouth, he calls her name. Again. Again. Again._


	3. Monday, 10:21 a.m.

Margaery approached Brienne's office with agonizing slowness, stopping every few seconds to chit-chat with someone different. Brienne considered going to the door and calling her over, but that would seem desperate. _As if you weren't_ , the little voice in her head taunted, and she shut it up by checking her email for the twelfth time that morning. When Margaery finally made it to the office, she set a cup of coffee down on the desk and sat in the chair opposite the desk.

"He's in Lannisport until Thursday."

Brienne let out the breath she had been holding for three hours and dropped her head in her hands. "Oh, thank the seven." For a few hours of madness, she had considered quitting her job or applying for a long leave of absence or simply calling in sick the rest of the week, but Margaery wouldn’t let her weasel her way out of seeing Jaime again. The fact that he wasn’t in the office at all made her lightheaded with relief.

"But you're going to have to face him eventually," Margaery said. "You can't hide in here forever." _I can certainly try_ , she thought, but only shrugged her shoulders. Margaery was right. Margaery was always right. "What will you say?"

Brienne shrugged again. She had been brooding about it all weekend, trying to come up with a plan. What could she possibly say that wouldn't sound absolutely ridiculous coming from her mouth?

_Thank you for having sex with me, can we do it again?_

_Please stop fucking your twin sister and fuck me instead._

_I love you._

As if she could read her mind, Margaery said, "I think you should tell him the truth."

"Which truth?"

"That you're in love with him and he really hurt you when he left."

Brienne snapped her head up and gaped at Margaery. "That's not– I'm not– No."

Margery rolled her eyes in a gesture of saintly patience she must have learned from her grandmother. "You are, Bri, and you should tell him. He clearly has feelings for you."

"But he _doesn’t_."

 _He can’t_. Margaery couldn’t understand. She didn’t _know_.

Jaime had told Brienne about Cersei during one of their long nights of rooting around box after box of endless financial records and contracts, hoping to find some connection between the Bolton family and a criminal organization called The Bloody Mummers. He had gotten into the habit of drinking at night when the research got boring—a habit which Brienne tried in vain to rid him of—and he had been slightly drunk that night. She had made an offhand comment about one of the Mummers, a man who was rumored to have fathered six children with his half-sister, and the floodgates had opened and he had poured his soul out to her.

He told her about their lonely childhood together in Casterly Rock; about their brother’s birth and their mother’s death; about their first time together, drunk and horny after high school graduation; about how after that, they simply had not been able to stop. Twenty years had passed and nothing had gotten in their way, not their father, their jobs or her husband. Cersei had married Robert Baratheon because he was stupid and rich and handsome, but the years weren’t kind to him and he drank and fucked his fortune away until he died of a perforated ulcer.

"I thought we would be together after that," Jaime had said, pouring himself out a fresh drink. "But then she got offered an job in a fashion label in Pentos and she left. I should be happy for her, it’s all she ever wanted, but I’m not." He had taken a long swig from his glass of whiskey and muttered miserably, "I wish she was here. I wish I could marry her."

Even through her revulsion, it had struck Brienne how deeply he felt for his sister. It was a twisted and secretive love, a love to keep in shadows, but it was love nonetheless, and Brienne knew he would do anything, go up against anyone, for her. His sibling. His lover. When he stopped talking and looked at Brienne, his eyes wide and skittish and terrified, she had promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and she had kept her word. It had been the first confession he’d made to her, but not the last.

A year ago, Cersei had returned from Pentos and had begun working as the magazine’s fashion director. Jaime didn’t offer any details and Brienne didn’t ask, but she could tell by the way he was suddenly smiling more and barking at his employees less that they were together. Brienne had been ready to give Cersei the benefit of the doubt, no matter the horror stories people said about her around the office—years ago, they had said the same about Jaime and he had proved all of them wrong—but in Cersei’s case, her reputation was well-earned. The woman was brutally cruel to everyone except Jaime and their father. She was even more vicious to her brother Tyrion, who had once seriously warned Brienne to stay away from Cersei. After a couple of attempts at civil conversation, Brienne had taken his advice.

"We could still be friends," Brienne told Margaery, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. Did she even _want_ to be friends with him? She had trusted him with something she hadn’t trusted anyone with in a very long time because he had said he wanted her. And then he hadn’t wanted her. How could they possibly fix that?

Margaery clucked her tongue and gave her a look brimming with pity. "I’m sorry, Bri, but there’s no going back."


	4. Tuesday, 4:55 a.m.

_His hand grazes my hip, I touch the golden hairs on his chest, he kisses the freckles on my shoulder, says that one, no_ that one _, is his favorite of all my freckles. He has freckles too, very faint ones on his nose, burned into his skin by the sun in his youth and I tell him_ this one _is the one I love most. The room is cold and the light coming through the window is white and bright and full of winter, and I know we'll stay in bed all day, naming all our favorite parts of each other._


	5. Wednesday, 8:41 p.m.

It wasn't like Sansa to ignore her calls. Brienne had dialed her number twice already and sent her three text messages, but they all went unanswered, and she had to admit she was slightly worried. She turned her computer on again, pulled up Davos Seaworth's article about the Skagosi mining industry and gave it another read-through for any mistakes before calling Sansa again. It rang once and went to voicemail.

The movie was supposed to start at half past nine but they were never going to get all the way across town at this rate. Sansa had scored the tickets from the dozens the magazine received every week. The movie was a low-budget independent film, a modern retelling of Durran Godsgrief and Elenei's legend, and no one in the office had really wanted to watch it, but Sansa knew Brienne loved romantic legends as much as she did. Brienne suspected Sansa had also noticed her bad mood all week and she was full of affection for the girl for wanting to do something to cheer her up. She would have gone to fetch her a long time ago if Sansa hadn't been on the twenty-third floor.

The twenty-third floor was the domain of the fashion department, and the fashion department was the domain of Cersei Lannister. Brienne avoided going up there at all costs, preferring to send Pod or her assistant Shireen in her stead, not that they were treated any better. She didn't even go up when Cersei was gone and Margaery wanted to see her, in case one of Cersei's lackeys saw her and decided to make her day a little harder. Her assistants had noticed her treatment towards Brienne and had taken it upon themselves to replicate it in a twisted attempt to gain their boss's favor. Margaery had tried to put them off without success and she'd threatened to speak with Jaime, but Brienne had stopped her. She knew he'd put a stop to it but that would only make things worse, like spread a host of rumors with no basis in truth. _Well, there's certainly a basis in truth now_ , she thought, glumly.

Had he told Cersei about them? Brienne remembered a dream she'd had recently, the pair of them laughing at her and fucking, and shuddered. She couldn't bear the shame if he had.

The minutes ticked away and there was no sign of Sansa. "Don't be such a coward," she told herself. Her voice sounded strange in her empty office, bouncing off the bare walls and the cardboard boxes she still hadn't come around to unpacking since her promotion two days ago. "What can she possibly tell you that you haven't heard before?" She had been called ugly and slow and mannish and worse things besides. Cersei would hardly be wittier than the dozens of people who had berated her through the years, Jaime included. Fortified, Brienne picked her purse, turned off all the lights in her office and headed for the elevators.

She heard Cersei's voice even before the doors opened. The twenty-third floor was completely empty and pitch black except for a light in the back where her shouts came from.

"This is not acceptable! Look at it! If I shot this outfit, I'd be laughed out of the business and I'm not going to be ridiculed by the likes of you."

The room Cersei was in had dozens of shelves and racks and tables full to bursting with clothes and shoes and purses and jewelry. Dark, heavy velvets mixed with airy, shimmery silks, surrounded by gold and silver everywhere, and the room seemed to glow. _Like a dragon's hoard of gold_ , Brienne thought, and there the dragon stood in the middle of the room, shaking a blue dress with a silver belt at someone on the other side of the room.

Brienne stepped further into the room and her stomach clenched when she saw that Cersei was yelling at Sansa. She stood by a rack, her hands clasped in front of her body, and she stared at her feet and her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

"I swear," Cersei was saying, "if you weren't the daughter of that Stark bitch, you'd be out the door before you could blink."

Sansa's wet eyes darted up and fixed on the other woman with barely contained fury. "You can't speak like that about my mother," she growled through gritted teeth.

Cersei threw the dress at Sansa and it landed at her feet with a metallic clang. Sansa flinched slightly and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "I'll speak about her however I wish, you useless idiot."

"Excuse me." The words were out of Brienne's mouth before she could stop them. The blazing glare Cersei gave her made her wish she had slinked out of the room quietly, but Sansa's sigh of relief reassured her that she'd done the right thing.

"What do you want?" Cersei spat.

"I–I was w–waiting for Sansa," Brienne stammered, blushing.

" _Sansa_ ," she said, throwing a look over her shoulder at the weeping girl, "will leave when she's done her work to my satisfaction."

"Her shift ended at five," she said, quietly, trying to say the words without fumbling. Cersei would pinpoint whatever weakness she showed and tear her apart. "I'm sure Sansa can finish her work tomorrow."

"Who are you again?" Brienne frowned. Cersei knew perfectly well who she was. Jaime had introduced them shortly after she'd arrived in King's Landing and they'd spoken briefly at office parties, stiff pleasantries for Jaime's benefit. Mostly, Cersei enjoyed mocking her behind her back. But she knew exactly who Brienne was. _She just wants to humiliate me, even though there's no one here to see but Sansa._

She stood straight and raised her chin. "Brienne. Brienne Tarth. I'm the director of—"

Cersei's green eyes lit up and she grinned, baring her teeth like a hungry lioness. "Oh, right! You're Jaime's pet."

Brienne’s stomach roiled violently. ”W–what?" _Gods, he told her_. She wanted to hide under a table and never come out. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you follow him around like a lovesick puppy and he lets you because it makes him feel important. It's quite pathetic, you know. He'd never look at you."

Brienne gaped at her dumbly. There was quite a bit of contempt in her voice, but she was being entirely earnest. Maybe she even thought she was being kind by pointing it out. _He didn't tell her_ , Brienne realized and a wave of relief overcame her, even as she realized the truth in Cersei's words. He'd looked at her and hadn't liked what he'd seen. But Cersei didn't need to know that. Brienne took a deep breath and steeled herself. "It's almost nine. Can Sansa leave?"

Cersei waved a hand casually in front of her face, as if Brienne were a fly that was bothering her. She looked like a cat who had gotten tired of playing with a mouse. "Fine." She glowered at Sansa. "Get out of here, child. And think _very hard_ about what a career in fashion means to you."

"Thank you, Ms. Lannister," Sansa replied, brushing her tears away with the sleeves of her sweater and edging past Cersei without getting too close, as if she were afraid the woman would strike her. Brienne would have to ask her about that. The thought of Cersei lifting a hand to hit Sansa made her palms itch. Brienne merely gave her a curt nod and began to follow Sansa.

"Not you," Cersei snapped. Brienne stopped in her tracks and turned around, plastering a blank look on her face. The adrenaline rush she'd felt a few seconds ago was beginning to fade and she wanted nothing more than to go home, take a long warm bath and forget this woman existed. Cersei stepped close enough for Brienne to smell her perfume, a suffocating flowery smell which made her think of putrid roses. She stood more than a head shorter, but the look she gave her made Brienne feel like the short one. "I don't know what kind of liberties my brother lets you take," she said, her voice low and harsh, "but don't _ever_ challenge me in front of one of my employees again. If you do, I'll make sure _he's_ the one who kicks you out on your ass. And don't believe I can't convince him."

"I'm sure you can," Brienne said, and before Cersei could ask what she meant by that, she wished her a good night and followed Sansa to the elevator.

The only sounds on the way down were Sansa's sniffles, but when they reached the lobby and stepped outside into the warm summer air, Sansa threw her arms around Brienne's middle and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled against Brienne's chest.

Brienne smiled and patted her back. "Is she always like that?"

Sansa nodded. "Worse sometimes." She lifted her head and stared up at Brienne, her blue eyes swimming. "Please, don't tell my mother. She'll only make it worse. Promise?"

"Of course." She understood completely. Sansa flashed her a sweet smile and pulled away, smoothing down her clothes. She wore an oversized oatmeal-colored sweater over a white shirt, a black skirt and a pair of black Mary Janes with grey socks, and her long auburn hair was braided over her right shoulder. She was pretty even with bloodshot eyes and circles under her eyes, and Brienne must have looked a sight next to her in her inexpensive gray pantsuit and green shirt, but Sansa didn't seem to mind. "Do you still want to see the movie?"

"Yes! I won't let _her_ ruin my night," Sansa said with an angry jerk of her head at the building. "Let's get out of here before she comes down and starts yelling at us in the street."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not 100% sure about my characterization of Cersei, but I'm working on it! Picture a younger Miranda Priestly with no filter.


	6. Thursday, 12:20 p.m

`Margaery (12:20 p.m.): you're hiding`  
`Me (12:20 p.m.): I'm not hiding.`  
`Margaery (12:21 p.m.): then come down and have lunch`  
`Me (12:27 p.m.): I'm busy. Pod said he'd get me a sandwich.`  
`Margaery (12:29 p.m.): he's down here and he looks miserable`  
`Me (12:29 p.m.): Pod?`  
`Margaery (12:29 p.m.): NO BRIENNE NOT POD!!`  
`Me (12:42 p.m.): If he feels so bad about it, let him come here and apologize. I'm not going to beg him like a lovesick puppy.`  
`Margaery (12:43 p.m.): you're impossible`

 

* * *

 

 **From** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**To** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : About Friday

We should probably talk.

J

P.S. Did you have lunch today?

 

 **From** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**To** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: About Friday

Mr. Lannister,

According to page 47 of the Employee Code of Conduct, we are prohibited from using our work emails for personal matters. Please refrain from this use in the future.

Regards,

Brienne Tarth  
Director, Research Department  
L Magazine

This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed. Please notify the sender immediately by e-mail if you have received this e-mail by mistake and delete this e-mail from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you are notified that disclosing, copying, distributing or taking any action in reliance on the contents of this information is strictly prohibited.

 

 **From** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**To** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: Re: About Friday

what about cat videos like the ones you were sending me last week? are those allowed under page 47 of the employee code of fucking conduct?

 

 **From** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**To** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: Re: Re: About Friday

Mr. Lannister,

The use of profanity is also prohibited under page 48 of the Employee Code of Conduct. Additionally, the situation has changed _significantly_ since last week.

Brienne Tarth  
Director, Research Department  
L Magazine

This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed. Please notify the sender immediately by e-mail if you have received this e-mail by mistake and delete this e-mail from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you are notified that disclosing, copying, distributing or taking any action in reliance on the contents of this information is strictly prohibited.

 

 **From** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**To** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: Re: Re: Re: About Friday

I am aware of that which is why I'm asking to speak to you about it. Don't be so stubborn, Grizzly.

 

 **From** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**To** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About Friday  
[Attachment: EmployeeCodeofConduct-revised.pdf]

Mr. Lannister,

Please refer to page 47.

Regards,

Brienne Tarth  
Director, Research Department  
L Magazine

This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed. Please notify the sender immediately by e-mail if you have received this e-mail by mistake and delete this e-mail from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you are notified that disclosing, copying, distributing or taking any action in reliance on the contents of this information is strictly prohibited.

 

* * *

 

`**Jaime (3:12 p.m.)** : im outside of ur office & shireen wont let me in`  
`**Me (3:12 p.m.)** : I am very busy today, Jaime. Maybe later.`  
`**Jaime (3:12 p.m.)** : we need 2 talk`  
`**Me (3:17 p.m.)** : I don't want to talk to you.`  
`**Jaime (3:17 p.m.)** : why not?`  
`**Me (3:20 p.m.)** : Leave me alone, Jaime. Please.`

 

* * *

 

 **From** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**To** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : I swear this is work-related  
[Attachment: JL_sevenpointedknife.docx]

Ms. Tarth, attached is the article "A Seven-Pointed Knife: The Secret Life of the Faith" for the October issue. Please revise. Interview audio files are available upon request.

Jaime Lannister  
Features Editor  
L Magazine

This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed. Please notify the sender immediately by e-mail if you have received this e-mail by mistake and delete this e-mail from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you are notified that disclosing, copying, distributing or taking any action in reliance on the contents of this information is strictly prohibited.

 

 **From** : Brienne Tarth <btarth@lmag.com>  
**To** : Jaime Lannister <jlannister@lmag.com>  
**Cc** : Podrick Payne <ppayne@lmag.com>  
**Subject** : Re: The Faith article

Mr. Lannister,

The request has been received and forwarded to Mr. Podrick Payne. Please address any further correspondence on the matter to him.

Regards,

Brienne Tarth  
Director, Research Department  
L Magazine

This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed. Please notify the sender immediately by e-mail if you have received this e-mail by mistake and delete this e-mail from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you are notified that disclosing, copying, distributing or taking any action in reliance on the contents of this information is strictly prohibited.

 

* * *

 

`**Margaery (8:21 p.m.)** : pod said j went up to your office this afternoon and you wouldn't let him in`  
`**Me (8:21 p.m.)** : I was very busy.`  
`**Margaery (8:21 p.m.)** : BULLSHIT!`  
`**Margaery (8:21 p.m.)** : at 12:42 you wrote: If he feels so bad about it, let him come here and apologize.`  
`**Margaery (8:21 p.m.)** : he went and you turned him away!!!!!`  
`**Margaery (8:22 p.m.)** : you promised you would tell him how you felt when he came back`  
`**Me (8:23 p.m.)** : I changed my mind.`  
`**Me (8:23 p.m.)** : And don't quote me to myself.`  
`**Margaery (8:23 p.m.)** : you can't do that! you need to tell him!`  
`**Margaery (8:26 p.m.)** : either you tell him or i will`  
`**Me (8:26 p.m.)** : YOU WOULDN'T DARE.`  
`**Margaery (8:26 p.m.)** : gods Bri get over your fucking embarrassment and just tell him`  
`**Margaery (8:26 p.m.)** : he might even tell you that GASP!!! he likes you back`  
`**Me (8:27 p.m.)** : Not gonna happen. End of story.`  
`**Margaery (8:27 p.m.)** : just promise me you'll think about it`  
`**Margaery (8:27 p.m.)** : and don't cross your fingers behind your back`  
`**Me (8:32 p.m.)** : I promise.`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried about the experimental format of this chapter, but it was so fun to write!


	7. Friday, 7:47 p.m.

_By this time tomorrow, I'll be in Tarth._

Brienne had been repeating the same thing to herself all day and it was the only thing keeping her from screaming herself silly. She had spent all day carefully avoiding both Jaime and Margaery, asking Shireen to tell anyone who asked that she was overwhelmed by last-minute work, and trying not to bash her head against her keyboard with every hour that passed.

Her busyness wasn't exactly a lie. She wanted to get as much done as she could before leaving for the weekend, so she worked restlessly all day, making corrections and writing emails and assigning articles to the other researchers in her department. Jaime's article would prove particularly difficult to fact-check. Most of his facts came from interviews with anonymous septas and septons, and though she trusted he'd done his due diligence, she wrote Pod a quick email to recommend that he meet with Jaime directly and work through some of the more vague paragraphs with him.

She spent most of the day locked up, leaving only briefly to go to the restroom twice. The second time, she'd seen Jaime walking down the hallway in her direction and she'd ducked into Catelyn Stark's office and pretended she wanted to ask after her children's health. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she'd slinked back to her office and not come back out again.

Her office, while still brand new to her, was beginning to feel like a cage. The glass wall facing the rest of the office made her think of the bear enclosure at the zoo, and the bear enclosure made her think of _him_ , and she could have left the curtains closed permanently, but she worried about what that might look like. Knowing how imaginative the gossip was around the magazine, she didn't doubt someone could begin whispering about her not being alone in her office and she really couldn't have taken the embarrassment.

At lunch, she'd sat at her desk facing the window and trying to imagine that the sliver of gray sea she glimpsed between the skyscrapers was actually the ocean around Tarth during a storm. Her father had been so happy when she called to say she was spending Conqueror's Day weekend with him. They hadn't seen each other since the previous July, when she'd fled King's Landing and gone to seek refuge in her childhood bedroom. There had been a silly incident in Naerys's Park that month and somehow she'd gotten it into her head that something was about to happen between her and Jaime. Then Cersei had come back and Brienne had realized her mistake, and she'd cut off her hair and run to Tarth. The irony of how she was repeating her actions one year later was not lost on her.

It wasn't right that she should only go to her father when she was sad, but she couldn't help it and he would be ecstatic to see her no matter what. When she arrived, she would pack a picnic basket and take her father to the beach. If his companion was there, she'd invite the woman along, whoever she was, and try to be gracious. She would wear a swimsuit and go in the water and not worry if people were staring. She'd let the salt scrub her clean and the current drag all the muck away into the Narrow Sea. She would not think about the magazine or Jaime or Friday night.

Before leaving, she printed out her boarding passes and locked up her corporate cell phone in the top drawer of her desk. It was against the rules to leave it in the office, but she needed the weekend to herself and she ignored the uncomfortable itch breaking the rules gave her. _By this time tomorrow, I'll be in Tarth, eating Daddy's vegetarian lasagna and watching football_. She thought of warm blue waters as she waited for the elevator.

The lift arrived soon after with a loud ping! and Brienne automatically stepped forward to get inside. When she saw the couple, she pulled up short. For a moment she thought they had been kissing, but the looks on their faces told her they were arguing. Jaime looked vaguely surprised to see her standing there, while Cersei merely glared at her as she always did. "Catch the next one," she said and stabbed a finger at one of the buttons. The doors began to close, but Jaime leapt forward, stuck his arm through the gap and the doors retreated. Behind him, she saw Cersei rolling her eyes and staring at the back of his head like she wanted to burn holes in it.

"Come on," he said, waving her inside with his other hand. She gave him a small nod and stood close to the wall. He settled in between her and Cersei and put his hands in his pockets. "How are you?"

The casual tone of his voice was so artificial, she almost laughed. "I'm fine. You?"

"Fine."

They were play-acting as strangers and in another life, they might have been. If Catelyn hadn't assigned her to him, or if she'd assigned her to any other of his articles, one of the lighter ones which were printed in the spring issues, they would never have become friends. They'd be casual acquaintances at best, total strangers at worst, or perhaps being strangers would have ended up being the best-case scenario. They certainly wouldn't be standing here _pretending_ to be strangers, acting like they hadn't touched each other into oblivion one week ago.

After what seemed to her like the world's longest elevator ride, they arrived at the lobby and Cersei was out the door in a flash. Jaime glanced at Brienne with something like apprehension before rushing after his sister and Brienne strolled out, keeping her distance. She tried to focus on the sound of her footsteps on the cavernous lobby and not on them, arguing in the plaza outside. Brienne could only hear their voices very faintly, but she knew Cersei was shouting. Jaime gripped her arm tightly and shook her softly, and Cersei wrenched her arm away and pushed him before stomping away.

Keeping her gaze fixed to the ground, Brienne stepped through the revolving doors, said "Good night" and went on her way, taking long hurried strides in her rush to get away. He hesitated for a second before calling her name, asking her to stop. She only did when he ran ahead of her and landed in her path, making her halt before she crashed into him.

"I'm waving a white flag here," he said, holding his hands up placatingly. "We need to talk."

 _Just get it over with and go home_. Brienne crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up so he would have to look up at her slightly. His mouth twisted with annoyance when he recognized the gesture, but if he thought of a wisecrack, he bit it back. "Then talk," she snapped.

Maybe he was expecting her to put up more of a fight, because he seemed stunned for a moment, and she briefly considered being difficult just to spite him, but then he spoke. "You cut your hair."

Her hand flew automatically to the back of her neck, where her hair no longer brushed the skin. She'd gone to her usual salon after leaving work the day before and had the stylist cut it shorter than ever before. "My father says it's been very warm in Tarth lately."

Jaime's eyes darkened. "You're going to Tarth? By yourself?"

The question made her skin tingle with anger. What right did he have to question her? _This is what men do when you sleep with them_ , she thought. _They think of you as property, even if they don't love you, like a fickle child refusing to share a broken toy_. "What do you want, Jaime?"

He heaved a loud sigh and looked up, his green eyes trailing along the side of the building. The lit windows reflected in his irises, making them glow like emeralds. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought he was nervous. "I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have left like that." He bit his lip harshly for a moment and turned his gaze to her, and she almost gasped under the intensity of it. "I panicked. You're my best friend, Grizzly. That sounds like something an eight-year-old would say, but it's true. I don't want to ruin that."

Brienne wanted to scream, but she had to keep her wits about her. She forced her voice to remain steady and low. "Why did you do it, then? Why did you pretend you wanted me? Were you lonely or just trying to be cruel?"

"I wasn't pretending," he said, so resolutely it admitted of no doubt, and her breath caught in her chest. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. She was sure her skin was alight with the brightest blush she'd ever had and she wanted to look away from his eyes, but she felt like an insect caught in flypaper. He looked away first. "But it was a mistake. I–I love her. I can't–I can't return your feelings."

Brienne finally looked away, fixing her eyes on the giant round mosaic on the floor. The head of a huge golden lion was artfully constructed out of tiny pieces of colored glass and she was standing in the middle of its gaping maw. She thought of Margaery. _Tell him the truth_ , she'd said and Brienne had promised to think about it. If she gave him the right of it and admitted she loved him, it would open up a chasm between them the width of the Narrow Sea, one they would never be able to bridge. He would never love her and she would resent him for trying to keep her close in spite of it. Jaime was her best friend too. They'd trusted each other with things no one else knew. She couldn't have his love, but she couldn't stand losing his friendship too.

"I'm not in love with you, Jaime," she said, more forcefully than she'd intended. His eyes flashed to hers briefly before looking away. "I thought you'd left because you were disgusted. It's something Hyle or one of the others would have done."

Jaime shook his head emphatically, his green eyes wide and earnest. "I could never be disgusted by you. Grizzly, if things were different..."

She sensed something like wistfulness or regret in his voice and her mind began to reel with what ifs, but she wouldn't go down that path. Not again. "Everything would stay the same," she finished.

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "Can we call a truce, forget this ever happened?" He held his hand out to her and Brienne forced a tight-lipped smile and took his hand, trying not to revel in the warmth of his skin, trying not to cry, trying not to wish she'd never met him. "Truce," she said.

"Oh, thank the gods," he breathed. He dropped her hand quickly and smiled at her, though it barely reached his eyes. She hoped, at the very least, that the uneasiness between them would fade soon. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Brienne snorted. "You'd probably drink too much and not know who built the Kingsroad."

Jaime grinned and it lit up his whole face, made him look like her friend again. "Who was it again? Baelor the Blessed? Aegon the Conqueror? Bran the Builder?"

She rolled her eyes and couldn't suppress the genuine smile that tugged at her lips. "Bran the Builder wasn't even a king, Jaime. It was—"

"Jaehaerys the First, I know." His smile faltered slightly, as if he were remembering something sad, and she remembered something sad too, knights and dragon costumes and a million what ifs carried in crystal drops of rain. "Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked.

"I can't. I have to go home." Jaime arched a skeptical eyebrow at her. She realized how much it had sounded like the stupid lie he'd told her about his brunch meeting on Saturday and she winced. "No, really. I need to pack. My flight leaves at nine and I haven't even taken my suitcase out of the closet."

If he felt dejected, he hid it well. "Then have fun. Send me a photo of those famous blue waters," he said, and as he walked away, she thought she just might.

**Author's Note:**

> This part and the next one were a real pain in the butt to write. I had to write them side by side to make sure all the pieces matched up and it really did take me too much time. But the third part is mostly done and the fourth one is ready to post, but I’ll hold off on it for a bit so I can get the next few parts done.
> 
> I also wanted to say a few things about where this story came from. I was sort of inspired by [this fantastic AU graphic by little-magnolie](http://magnolie.co.vu/post/87004497851/nicolas-sparks-au-game-of-thrones-seven-things), and I wanted to explore what it would be like to be in love with two people, or to fall in love with one person as you're falling out of love with another one. Brienne is the easiest one for me to write so most of the chapters will be in her POV, but I expect a couple of them will be from Jaime's. I also wanted to avoid writing a one-note portrayal of Cersei and I don’t know if I’ll manage it, but I’ll try. The next part of this series is told from Jaime's POV and hopefully that will shed some light on Cersei's motivations too.
> 
> Since part of what I want to explore with this is how Jaime and Cersei’s relationship works, you might find some instances of Jaime/Cersei, though not too much because that's not what most of you are here for and that's not what I'm here for. But to ignore the validity of the feelings they have for each other is to do a disservice to the characters, and I love them too much to do that. This is ultimately a J/B fic and I hope the text reflects that, even if it seems a little hopeless at times.
> 
> Lastly, I want to assure you guys that there’s a lot more to come but I want to ask for some patience. I am a slow writer and I second-guess myself too much, and I hope you'll forgive me if this ends up being unfinished, but I'll do my damnedest to keep that from happening.


End file.
